Nelf Noir
by Anna Letha
Summary: Xyra is drowning her sorrows over a man. Just what can get this night elf out of her funk? Why another man, of course. But who?


((Author's Note: This story was inspired by World of Warcraft. Xyra is my character from the Thorium Brotherhood server. This story, although using characters I've created personalities for, is copyright Blizzard Entertainment 2005, please don't sue, etc.

This story is rated M for some language, some adult themes and violence.))

Nelf Noir

A World of Warcraft fanfic

By Heidi Cautrell

It was raining fat drops of heated water that could only mean one of two things: I was in Booty Bay and trying drink away my sorrows on a depressing, fall day, or Elune finally let go of all her motherly grief and was going to drown us all. Either way, I figured I'd have a good chance of ending up dead by liquid. Though if I had a choice I wanted it to be by booze.

The liquor of the moment was whiskey. It burned my throat as I drank. Not bothering with a glass anymore, I just sipped directly from the small mouth of the clear glass bottle. Whiskey looks like piss and it tastes like piss, but once you get to the point of being piss drunk, you don't care anymore and whiskey is cheap. Real cheap.

"Not as cheap as I am, apparently," I muttered to myself, then took another pull from my almost empty bottle.

The only other person in the dive was a one eyed gnome who'd long ago fallen into his cups and then smashed face first into the floor. Gnomes: smart enough to invent things that aren't natural, but stupid enough to think a three foot person could drink even half of what someone at six feet could drink.

Drinking was my favorite pass time. Stormy day? Let's have a few beers to pass the time. Nice day outside? Let's drink to celebrate. It's your birthday? I'll buy you a drink. It was a never ending cycle really. Not that I couldn't go days or weeks without booze. I'd done so before and I would again. It was a hobby really, something that I could do in moderation. Or not.

That day was one of those not days. You know, those days where you decide to give the whole world the finger and then stick your head in the sand so no one can see you crying into your beer? Yeah, that's what I was doing. Stupid and pointless though it seemed, even a rogue like me has her off days.

You're probably wondering why I was acting like such a sap. You're right to wonder--that wasn't me. But then again, what was the real me? Not many knew. I'm not sure I knew myself some days.

The night before my drinking spree, I went to Booty Bay for some business. I hadn't had the stink of trash, tar and salt in my nose for awhile, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to stick around and have some fun at one of the local taverns once my business, which isn't any of yours, was done. So I took myself over to the Salty Sailor and ordered an ale. I sat myself in a corner, propped up my feet and watched the scene unfold.

Taverns in pirate towns are unique in that they hold all walks of life. Even the high class walks of life, though they tend to keep themselves separate as if that would keep the grim of the place off their pristine hands. Of course those saps also tended to get drunk, beat and mugged before the night was through. Morons.

At first nothing was unusual, just another night of bawdy sailor jokes and stories, a scuffle or two and several whores making off like bandits with a steady stream of customers up to their rooms. These nights are usually boring and result in me leaving early. For some reason, however, I stuck around. I ordered another drink, put my feet up again and sipped this one slowly.

I don't know when he showed up or what direction he came in from, but when I glanced to the right, the previously empty table was suddenly occupied by the most attractive Night Elf I'd ever seen. (That I could remember, anyway.) I'd seen quite a few handsome men in my day and slept with two of them. But this one was something else. He made my past lovers look like orcs he was so finely made. Dark purple hair pulled back into a long pony tail that just made my fingers itch to reach over there. A blue skin tone only complimented his dark hair and warm amber eyes. He wore dark leathers like I did, so he was only one of three things: a rogue, a hunter or a druid. Not that I was caring one wit about his occupation at the moment. I was more concerned with that chiseled jaw of his and his full, sensual lips.

I must have been staring for longer than I'd intended because his gaze shifted to mine. I'm not one to drop eye contact often, unless I'm trying to get someone to believe I'm shy. This was one of those times when my reaction was genuine and I dropped my eyes to my mug. I drank the half full mug of ale and shoved myself to my feet.

Attractive though he may have been, he was a stranger and I had no need for a man in my life. Or so I was trying to tell myself. And I kept telling myself that as I stalked out the door and slipped into the muggy night air of Stranglethorn Vale. After a block down the harbor I slipped into the shadows. I knew he'd followed me and that made the hair on the back of my neck rise. I realized then that he was likely sent to kill me. I drew my dagger and waited, a grin on my lips. Nice try, whomever it was that sent him, but I don't let a handsome face distract me from my business. Not anymore.

He finally crept along the ally. He wasn't a rogue or druid, but he was looking around alertly, which told me he was likely a hunter and tracker. My grin widened. As he crept closer to my hiding place, I flexed my fingers in anticipation. Just as he was about to pass me and I was about to make my move, he lunged into the shadows, snagged me around the waist and slammed me against the wall. His left hand clasped my wrists above my head, forcing me to drop my dagger. His lower body pressed against me, his legs twined through mine, effectively stopping me from struggling at all.

Anger and embarrassment at getting caught turned my face dark purple. I hissed, "Who the fuck are you and what do you want?" I squirmed a bit against him, testing his strength. He was definitely stronger than I, he didn't budge an inch.  
"I don't have a name," he said, his voice low and smooth even as a whisper. His face was only inches above mine and I could smell clove on his warm breath.

"Then tell me what you want," I growled. I don't like games when my life may be at stake. The bastard was at least a foot taller than me and around a hundred pounds heavier. Unless he made a mistake and loosened his hold, I was at his mercy. The anger at this burned in my belly.

"I want you, Xyra..." His voice flowed across my jangled nerves like honey, coating them in sticky, sweetness that left me feeling weak in the knees.

"To my embarrassment, you have me. Now what?" I said, using words to cover my confused emotions. I was angry over this, wasn't I?

"Now... you make a choice," he said, his head dipping down until his lips were only an inch from mine. Our warm breath mingled in the muggy night air as I let the words hang between us for several moments.

"What choice?" I finally asked, my voice huskier than usual. And now comes the part that eventually brought me to drowning my sorrows with piss whiskey and a gnome who is comatose from five mugs of ale.

"The choice," he said, "is simple. You fight me and we see who wins." As he spoke he pulled out a dagger and pressed the point gently to my cheek. He didn't draw blood with it, he simple was letting me know it was there. "Or," he continued, "You come to my bed, willingly, and we see who wins there."

Few things piss me off anymore. You don't live as long as a kal'dorei, even a young one like me, without learning to let things slide like water off a duck's back. This guy's arrogance, however, was starting to ruffle my feathers. Sure he was hot and had a sexy voice, that wasn't enough to make up for the fact that he had me pinned to the wall and was taunting me.

"Mmmmm...." I purred low in my throat, "Your offer is tempting. I'm just not sure you're worth my time. In either arena."

As I spoke, I relaxed slowly. Distracting him with my words, I slipped my hips and upper body carefully to the side, just a few millimeters at a time so it wasn't obvious at first. I lifted my head up and to the side of his so my dark lips came close to his ear. I made sure my words were breathy as I said, "Maybe you can prove me wrong."

As I spoke, I felt his grin slide along my cheek as if it were a kiss. I grinned in response, then I struck. My foot rose and then slammed heel first into his toes. His grunt and reflexive move backwards gave me the warning and room I needed. My forehead connected with his cheek bone just as my knee came up. Moving faster than I expected for such a large man, he brought his thigh in to block my knee. This put him off balance like a one legged pirate in a kicking contest. My hands twisted in his grasp, finally gaining their freedom and a rush of blood that sent pin pricks down my arms.

I don't waste words or movement in fights, too much can happen when you go for flare over survival. My elbow slammed into his solar plexus. With all the hot air rushing out of him, I couldn't help but grin. I'd think up an amusing metaphor about balloons later. Not giving him a chance to recover, I shoved him back and aimed a kick for his kidneys. A perfectly sculpted statue though he was, he still had vulnerable flesh and that kick literally brought him to his knees.

Evading his grasping hands, which had dropped the knife when I first head butted him, I dove for the blade he'd made me drop earlier. Fingers like steel gripped my ankle, but I had the advantage now, so I merely rolled, using that foot as a pivot and planted my heel on his cheek with a soft thumping sound that reminded me of a fish hitting the dock. Only I was the dock.

Mister No-Name grunted, by he didn't let go of my ankle and he grabbed the one that had just kicked him as well. Talk about being persistent, this guy needed to learn to buy a girl a drink first. Bringing my feet together I slammed both into his chest, shoving us apart. His hands slid off me like my ankles were greased and I was on my feet in an instant. The dagger in my hand glinted in the moonlight.

He lay propped up by his elbow on his side as if he'd decided to just lay out and enjoy the moon. The bastard wasn't even breathing hard. Though neither was I--this wasn't even a work out compared to what I normally did. I narrowed my eyes on him, watching him like a cat watches a dog who's strayed to close to its personal space. This one was dangerous, even if I could kill him with my big toe.

"Well, well, so what they say is true," he drawled lazily. Rolling to his belly as if he were going to do push ups, he gained his feet in one fluid push. I noticed then that he wore black silk that seemed to accentuate his muscles more than was right or fair for a mortal man. Where did they make this guy and how could I get one that was more obedient?

"Whatever you've heard about me," I said softly, "is likely true." Sure some of the stories were a bit altered, but as I rarely fought unless it was required, most didn't realize that I fought like a wild cat when truly pressed. I sure as hell wasn't going to admit weakness to Mister Silk-Shirt however, so why not play up whatever rumors he'd heard.

His soft chuckle slid across my skin like silk, burning me from the inside with its sensual tone. I felt like he'd filled me with molten lava. And from the cat got the canary grin on his lips, he knew it too. Damn the man. He moved closer, sauntering as if he were merely out for a stroll on a sunny day instead of in an alley on a dock in the middle of the night with a woman who could kill him with the flick of her wrist. I stayed put, knife at the ready. I was damned if I'd let him intimidate me.

Leaning close, he said smoothly, "They say that you move with grace and beauty, that even when fighting your fierce expression and quick movements are like a dance of passion." The throaty words wound through my body, igniting flames as they passed. He gave a soft chuckle that had me catching my breath in my throat, "But I say words cannot describe your dangerous beauty, Xyra." He brushed his fingers gently along my cheek bone. "And I'd much rather see and touch it anyway." His voice was a rough whisper by this time full of dark promises of delight and utter worship.

Things may or may not have gone differently if I'd actually done what most women would have done in a situation like this. Most women, I'm sure, would have swooned against him and he'd have carried them off and they would have had a wild, torrid one night stand. I am, obviously, stupid and thus did what I always do when someone is standing too close to me. I punched him. My knuckles were stinging, but I ignored them as I followed his stumble backwards.

"Your lines suck," I said, and kicked at his face twice in rapid succession. His fore arm blocked the blows, but I wasn't done. I swung at his face again. Putting a vice like grip on my wrist, he stopped me from landing a solid punch. His cheek was red like a cherry where I'd hit him earlier. Amber eyes glittered with amusement and something darker. Was he angry? Probably, but even more so, he was turned on.

He jerked me forward by my wrist and wrapped his arm around my waist, binding my arm to my side. He said softly against my ear, "I like this spirit you have. And I'm willing to wait to test you in the other 'arena' another time."

I blinked in surprise and pulled back. Wait? He was willing to wait? Oh hell no. I twisted myself to one side, then hooked my foot behind his and pushed against him. The man was like a pillar of stone; he was solid, yet warm. The scent of sandalwood and leather overwhelmed me as we tumbled to the wood dock together. Sprawled across his nicely toned chest I wondered if perhaps the goblin hadn't spiked my ale earlier. What was I getting myself into?

I decided at that moment I didn't honestly care. And I took the plunge. As soon as we were both vertical I swarmed my way up his body like a kitten intent on a saucer of milk. His brief look of surprised pain from the fall quickly changed to one of delight and desire. I ignored his delight. I'd show him who was going to wait. Though why that logic seemed to make sense at the time, I've no clue.

Our lips met and it was as if a spark was thrown into a pile of dried leaves, the passion flared between us and scaled me to my toes. The kiss deepened almost instantly until our tongues were fighting for the right to stroke and tease one another. First in my mouth, then his, back and forth like a tug of war that left us both gasping for breath like our skirmish hadn't.

The rest is honestly a bit hazy after this, but there was much crazed tearing of clothing and panting and whispered words of passion like you might expect. What you wouldn't expect is to be caught half-naked on top of a guy who is suddenly being arrested.

"There he is!" I heard a woman shrieking. Oh shit. I turned, quickly jerking my bra and shirt back into place and there stood another kal'dorei woman with a quivering index finger, glaring at the two of us on the ground. She was tall and willowy with pretty lavender hair, lips that would have been cute as a bow if they weren't currently formed into a snarl of rage, and soft pink skin. Silver fire poured from her eyes as she glared down at us. "That's the man, bruisers. Arrest him at once!"

I frowned and looked back at Mister No-Name. "Wife?" I asked.

He grinned that handsome, sensual grin of his then shrugged. "My last mark. She didn't put up as much of a fight as you though."

I might have blacked out with rage at that point, I can't honestly remember. What I do remember is nursing my bruised knuckles after I knocked him out cold. Okay so maybe I was holding back a little when I was fighting him earlier. What girl would want to actually harm a person she's possibly thinking of having outrageous, and possibly even illegal, passionate sex with?

So the bruisers dragged him off half naked and out cold, bleeding from the nose and mouth. All right, so I might have punched him more than once; the rotten bastard deserved it. The woman just glared at me and stalked off. What, I did you a favor sister, don't go glaring at me like you didn't fall for his wiles too.

I dragged myself back to the bar after that, pulling on my jerkin and gloves as I went. And that leads to me being drunk off piss whiskey in Booty Bay. I suppose the question I should've asked myself was: Am I pissed that he tried to con me or am I pissed that he didn't get to finish? On the one hand, I'd probably be livid if I'd found out the next day he'd taken my money. On the other hand, hot, passionate kissing like that doesn't happen to a girl every day even though it probably should.

I sat back, finished off my whiskey and listened to the rain. After awhile, when I thought I was potentially sober enough to stand up, I gained my feet, dropped some gold on the table. Without a backward glance, I sauntered out into the wet. As the warm water soaked me to the bone the only thing I could think of was to get home, take nice hot bath and then sleep for a week.

"Hello there, love," said a voice near by. Squinting through the rain, I saw a human resting against a window sill under an awning, his long legs were stretched out before him. While I couldn't be sure with water stinging my eyes, he looked to be taller than even me. His brilliant blue eyes twinkled with interest. His black hair was gathered into a ponytail at the back of his neck. And to my utter fascination he wore a trim goatee, the same black as his hair.

Humans aren't my type. Ever. But I will admit to some fascination with their facial hair. It seems to simply look better on them, like a woman wearing a dress as opposed to a man--beards just work on humans. I ducked under the canvas, my dark leathers, hair, even my long ears were streaming water. I regarded him seriously for a moment. He grinned openly at my frank assessment.

"You gotta name, love?" he said finally, his tone amused, yet not dripping with sexual electricity--a relief if you asked me at the time. Judging by his response, if he didn't know me or of me, he was faking it well. I didn't want a repeat of the night before, obviously.

I smiled at him. "Xyra."

He smiled back, "Adam."

My smile turned to a grin. "You busy, Adam?"

He matched my grin. "Not particularly."

"Good," I said. Then grabbed a hold of his tunic, which was thankfully not silk, and dragged him toward me. As he stood I was delighted to find, much like a kid in a candy shop, that he was my exact height. I put my free hand in my pocket, searching for my hearthstone. As I did, he slipped his muscled arms around my waist and pressed a warm, sensual kiss to my wet lips. There wasn't a spark, but I'll be damned if this human didn't melt me into a pool of warm honey. I almost forgot about grabbing my stone, when my fingers finally brushed against it. Grasping it as if it were a life saver, I activated it and took us to my place.

Stumbling inside we barely waited for the door to shut before we went at one another like wild things. A boot tossed here, sword belt there, though I did removed my daggers, for... things. As we kissed and touched and grabbed, we slowly made our way back toward the bedroom. At the door Adam attempted to help me pull off my jerkin, but with both of us trying, it soon turned into a tug of war. Finally I just waved him off and sliced the damn thing off. Then I dragged his shirt off, tossed it in the air and pinned it to the ceiling with my dagger.

It went down hill after that, if that's at all possible. While it was happening I thought we were moving the very earth, our passion was so intense. It turns out my bed merely gave way, much like a match stick would give way if a tauren tried to balance on it. I suppose I needed a new one anyway.

Later. Much, much later after several exhausting rounds of the most intense intimacy I've had in... well, forever, I remembered that Gelles was suppose to be visiting. So I pulled on some clean clothes, a cloak and took off; leaving Adam to take a bath while I was gone.

When I returned from getting supplies, Adam informed me that Gelles had indeed stopped by, but fled before I came back. He seemed a bit embarassed. I wondered why, but I didn't bother asking; I had better things to do. Like work off all that booze I'd been drowning my sorrows in. And later, much later, I'd thank Elune for not drowning me that day.


End file.
